“Of course he can. He knows you’ve been a very good girl this year.”
Laurel stroked Molly’s hair. “I’ll have to find Christmas for you, Molly,” she said under her breath. “Somehow.”
The little girl hugged her lion close, her face buried in its mane. Her breathing slowed, growing even. She sighed and tucked her tiny hand under her cheek. Laurel held her breath, but Molly simply snuggled down under the covers.
Hopefully sleep would bring peace. For a while.
Minutes ticked by. Laurel’s heart ached with an emptiness she’d never imagined. She wanted Ivy to walk through the door, tell her it was all a mistake. Tell her this had all been a bad dream, a setup. One of their father’s elaborate plans.
A small part of her still hoped that were true, but she knew it wasn’t. She’d heard her father’s voice on the phone. This had nothing to do with the intelligence game he played. Every moment was real.
Her father was probably dead as well.
She and Molly were alone.
Laurel dug her fingernails into her palm, savoring the bite of pain. She wasn’t dreaming—even though she was in the midst of her own nightmare.
Her niece’s blond hair fell over her forehead. At least Laurel had Molly. The little girl gave Laurel a reason to not curl up in a ball and disappear. She’d never imagined her heart could feel so empty. That loneliness could suffocate her as if she were drowning.
Garrett had lost his wife and daughter. Laurel couldn’t imagine the agony he’d gone through. How had he survived? Alone, with his entire past erased, how had this not destroyed him?
Laurel glanced at the door. She could stay in this room for the evening. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion and fatigue. Each time she blinked, grit scraped her eyes, but for the first time in days, she felt safe. At least for the next twenty-four hours.
She should sleep, but Garrett was out there. Alone.
Her father had told her Derek Bradley was a traitor, but the more she recalled the conversations, the more she recognized the inconsistencies. Her father was an excellent liar, no doubt, but he’d been cagey about Bradley. He’d set up the doubts, so she would be able to trust him.
“Derek took too many risks,” James McCallister had said last Thanksgiving. “He paid the price. So did his family. Traitors always get what’s coming to them. Eventually.”
Her father had never called Derek Bradley a traitor.
Something from around Laurel’s heart eased, and she realized that somewhere deep inside she’d still had doubts. They were gone now. Besides, her image of a man who would sell out his country for money didn’t mesh with the man who could sing Molly into calmness from hysteria.
As she’d said to Garrett, at some point you had to let faith lead you. Careful not to jostle Molly, Laurel rose from the bed and padded across the room. The little girl didn’t stir. Laurel pressed her hand against the door and slowly turned the knob. She opened it and eased out of the bedroom.
The living room was empty.
She peeked into his workroom, but he wasn’t there. The encryption program still ran.
Finally she looked out the front window. He stood on the porch, his back to her, staring out at the sunset. His entire body screamed tension. As if he wanted to be left alone.
Laurel hesitated. She could return to the bedroom for the night, plant herself in front of the computer and wait, hoping the program would find the password, or she could go to Garrett. Except she knew what would happen the moment she touched him. They were both vulnerable. They both needed something only the other could provide.
She opened the front door. The cold gust of wind made her shiver. The last rays of light disappeared behind a mountain and deep purplish-blue painted the sky, rimmed at the horizon with a splash of pink and red. “Garrett?”
He didn’t turn around. She glanced down. He held his gun at the ready. She froze.
“In the trees,” he said softly.
She followed his gaze. Two piercing blue eyes peered at them, intent and calm.
The cougar.
“He’s back,” Laurel whispered.
“Cats are curious, but cautious. He won’t come closer.”
Garrett walked down the steps and picked up a large stone, tossing it toward the animal. The cat scampered off into the trees. “We need to keep Molly inside,” he said. “That cat’s learned people are a source of food. Probably eating after some of the border crossers left provisions behind.”
He shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and escorted her inside the house. “How’s Molly?”
“I’d guess out for the night, though she’ll probably be up before dawn.”
“Which reminds me.” Garrett flicked the dead bolt in place, then shoved a chair underneath the doorknob before activating the sensors.
“You think that will stop her?”
“She’ll make a lot of noise trying to get that chair out. I’ll hear the little Houdini.”
Laurel couldn’t help but smile. “She’s just like Ivy. When we were kids—”
“I would imagine she got you into a lot of trouble.”
“Dad would get so furious at us. I tried to take the fall a time or two, but Ivy wouldn’t let me. She was so much fun. I would have never had all those adventures if not for her.” Laurel sighed. “I’ll always miss her, won’t I?”
Garrett double-checked the chair then faced her, his expression solemn. “I won’t tell you it gets better. The scab may get a little tougher.”
She chanced a glance at him under her lashes. His stance was a bit awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say either. Maybe she’d been wrong. She should have just turned in with Molly.
“We’d better check on the computer—” he started.
“I guess I’ll turn in—” she said at the same time.
She shifted from one foot to the other. “I just looked at the program’s status,” Laurel said. “Still running. No answers.”
“I see. Then I guess it’s good-night.”
Something solemn and painful had settled behind his eyes. And vulnerable. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She crossed to him, her heart rate escalating with each step. She knew exactly what she was inviting. So did he.
She stopped inches away from him, still staring into his eyes. They darkened into a deep mahogany flaring with want, maybe with need.
“What are you doing, Laurel?” His voice had grown deep, husky.
Her touch tentative, she placed her hand on his chest. She needed him. “We’re safe for a while,” she said. “Aren’t we?”
“That’s debatable,” he said softly.
He covered the hand resting on his chest with his and lifted her palm to his lips. He nipped at the pad then threaded his fingers through hers. “You know this is a mistake,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You don’t know me. Not really.”
A shiver skated down her spine at his words, but the naked longing in his eyes shoved aside her doubts.
She knew him.
“I’ve watched you. You gave up your safe existence to help me and Molly. You calmed her fears tonight. I know everything I need to know.”
“Even though the world thinks I’m a traitor.”
“I know the